Meringue or loaf?
by Shiori Mizuki
Summary: A new kitchen maid at the Phantomhive Manor gets to know everyone on her own terms. A lemon epic with plot.
1. Chapter 1

Michaela fidgeted with the worn cloak that weighed her shoulders down. How could it be so heavy and so ineffective at the same time? The carriage hit a small bump and the scruffy blonde beside her shot her an uncomfortable grimace, which she imagined was supposed to be a smile without the cigarette hanging from his mouth. She thought wistfully of the days of childhood, when snuggling up to someone for warmth was cute rather than a quasi-romantic gesture. It would do no good to leave such an accidental impression on a co-worker before even reaching her new place of work.

The carriage suddenly banged, and Michaela whipped her head around to see the door had come open. She saw the arm of the Chinese man reach out and pull it closed again and wondered vaguely how it came to be open in the first place, but a particularly biting wind swept bitter thoughts towards all the carriage's occupants into her mind in its stead.

As they rounded the last corner of trees, Michaela tried not to look impressed as a vast lawn dotted with neatly trimmed hedges leading up to the largest mansion she'd ever seen came into view. Assuming there wasn't some shabby building behind the mansion, at least the servants' quarters would be warm. And with a spread like this, even a shabby servants building was sure to be better than the city.

The blonde nudged her in the side; Michaela had been absorbing her surroundings so eagerly she hadn't noticed they'd pulled up to the front door. The fair blonde she was told was the gardener, and _male_, was stacking suitcases unbelievably high in one hand. She sceptically eyed his barrettes and briefly scanned over his crotch before clutching her hand bag to hop off the carriage. She stopped at the side of the carriage and looked up at the door handle. It was well above her eye level, the heavy ineffectual cloak and her hand bag stuffed to an unrecognizable shape bogged her down, and the dusting of white on the ground spoke against simply dropping her bag. Scruffs, she decided to call him in absence of remembering his name, leaned over her shoulder to pull open the door. The Chinese couple hopped out and Michaela nervously bobbed her head in a short approximation of a bow. Was she supposed to bow? Couldn't she have gotten some training before meeting the employer and his buddies? Her eyes lingered on the Chinese girl's short skirt as she rounded the carriage, what kind of friends were these anyways?

Michaela stepped between the blondes as they followed the sullen boy and his queer friends up the stairs. The door opened, with the tall dark butler on the other side. Hadn't he been in the carriage with them when they left London? No one else batted an eye as he led the master and guests to the parlour, leaving Michaela to stare on in wonder.

She turned as someone cleared their throat, a kind looking old man stood before her, offering to take her bag.

"Oh, Th-thank you." Michaela quickly stammered.

"Think nothing of it. Many are often dazzled by Mr. Michaelis when they first meet him. If you'll follow me then miss-"

"Michaela"

"Miss Michaela. You may call me Tanaka."

Michaela nodded awkwardly and followed the butler as he led her through hallway after hallway. He opened a door to a modest room with plain walls, and plain window coverings. The bed looked comfortable and cozy. However beside the bed was a rather rickety looking cot.

"What is… that?" Michaela hesitated to ask, guessing full well the answer.

"Rest assured you're going to have your own room Miss. However it hasn't quite been finished as of present. Mr. Bard shall show you around this afternoon so you'll be able to find everything you could need, but please don't hesitate to ask." Tanaka bowed slightly and turned to leave.

"Wait, I'm not going to be sharing with Scruffs—er Bard do I?" Michaela blurted out, blushing as the old man's smile held unwaveringly.

"No, your room mate for now is Miss Mey-Rin this manor's maid. Oh- and your uniform is hanging in the wardrobe, Miss Mey-Rin is serving the young master and his guests tea so you can settle and change undisturbed."

"Th-thanks again." Michaela muttered, trying to imitate his bow. She watched after him and glanced down the hall before closing the door and throwing herself on this Mey-Rin's bed. Michaela had called it; the mansion was 300% warmer than the rundown town house she had been staying at. She undid the itchy cloak and sat up, looking around for the wardrobe. With the curtains drawn and the door closed it was very low light. Rather than searching for any candles, she opened the door a crack and then went to the wardrobe. A dark blue dress with a white pinafore. How classic, how not going to happen for long. Michaela pulled a face at the new dress as she let her old clothes fall to the ground. As she rolled the stockings up over her knee, she heard footsteps coming towards her from the hall. Pulling her other stocking on, she reached for the abominable dress and prepared to make a convincing girly scream.

As Finnian barged in with her heavy trunk held above his head, a gust from the door banging open ruffled the curtains. The room lit up for a brief, fleeting moment. But as the trunk landed on the floor, (and his foot from the looks of it) with a hollow thud—Michaela knew it had been enough. The blonde stood stammering, apparently unaware of the heavy trunk on his foot. Though since he just had it above his head quite easily, it probably wasn't a problem Michaela mused.

"S-Sorry M-M-" Finnian seemed stuck on the syllable.

Michaela let the dress fall, she hadn't managed to fake a girly scream—so clutching it to her breasts served no purposed. She crossed the room in a few strides and closed the door again; appraising the boy in the dark. She relished the sound of the heels of her new shoes clicking on the hardwood floor, a sound she hadn't heard since living with her family, as she approached the still stammering boy. She leaned down near his ear and said softly "Michaela." The heat radiated off his surely flushed cheeks making her grin. She snaked her arm around his chest to pull herself closer, pressing her bare breasts lightly into his back. What a perfect opportunity to see the truth behind those barrettes once and for all.

"Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-" Finnian progressed a sound, still stuck in a loop.

"Mi-chae-la" she hummed in a seductively singsong voice, running her finger nail lightly along Finnian's jaw line and neck. She felt the boy shiver and stop stammering in response. "And Scruffs said you were… Finnian, right?"

"Y-yes. Mi-Mi-" He tried to stammer again, but stopped instantly as Michaela leaned around to follow the path of her finger nail with the tip of her tongue. His skin was soft and tasted faintly floral as he let out a strangled murmur of that seemed confused between protest and pleasure. She chuckled quietly and walked around to stand him front of him, trailing her finger along his jaw line again.

"Will you do something for me, Finnian?" Michaela asked, resting her arms on each side of his neck.

"Wh-wh- Anything! Of course Michae-" As Finnian nearly finally successfully said her name, Michaela leaned in and pressed her lips to his fiercely. "What do you want me to do?" he asked quickly, a happy daze taking the place of his stammer. Michaela stifled a sigh; she had been hoping kissing him would unleash some sort of sexual demon in him. She sat down on the cot and leaned back, the faint light through the curtains highlighting the curves of her breasts.

"Perhaps a better question is what you want to do?" she smirked at the boy, still trying to goad him on though he seemed to be fascinated with the glimmers of light dancing on her hardened nipples. She sat back up and pulled Finnian closer by his hips, pulling on the band of his pants.

"Michae-" he began again, only to stop short as he pants fell to the floor. Michaela smiled as she had an answer she could accept, reaching for Finnian's modest sized member hungrily. She felt him shudder as she wrapped her hand around him, playfully pulling on him to bring him closer. "M-M-M-M-" he began stuttering again, as she ran her fingers slowly along his length. He held his hand out and gingerly took her breast into his hand, which he grabbed harder in shock as she suddenly took his tip into her mouth. "Michaela!"

She chuckled as the boy finally said her name, clicking her tongue against him so the warm vibrations would travel all along him. Clamping her lips down, she pulled away from him with a subtle pop.

"Yes?" she asked, piling on the sultry tone.

"Th-that feels good." He melted as she continued to stroke him. Michaela pushed him in the chest lightly and he collapsed back onto Mey-Rin's bed, only to moan again as she ran her tongue along his full length. He purred in response as she gripped the base of his shaft and began to gently twist, swirling her tongue around his tip.

Finnian gulped and tentatively ran his fingers through her maple hair, resting his palm on the back of her head as he reached the ponytail holder. Though he applied no pressure, she slid her lips all the way down his length. His hips bucked forward as he let out a long shuddering groan. She hummed and reached back to push the crème coloured bloomers off of her hips. His breathing grew ragged as he looked into her pale eyes, bold in her challenge as she began to pleasure herself.

Not willing to let him go over the edge, Michaela pulled away and crawled up the bed to him. His wide eyed expression was still confused, as though he were lost between "_What's happening?_" and "_Why did it stop?_" He closed his eyes as she leaned in to kiss him, and she breathed in his sweet scent again. His tongue clumsily learned to dance with hers as she slid her leg over to straddle him.

"What-" Finnian broke the kiss only to gasp out as Michaela impaled herself down onto his throbbing member. He grabbed onto her arms as he shuddered all along his body, Michaela could feel his full strength inadvertently trying to bruise her arms. She grinned and began to roll her hips, relishing the mewling sounds he made with each motion. His grip would tense with each thrust, but her skin wouldn't bruise.

She wove a hand underneath his neck and the other under his back and rolled so she was underneath him. He placed his hands on either side of her neck as she had been over him but stopped.

"Michaela…" Finnian seemed to be frozen, unwilling to move. She rolled her hips and let a soft moan escape from her lips.

"I can take it." She smiled up at him, but he was looking down at her body. Living in the townhouse that couldn't afford to heat its patrons let alone feed them had left her looking small and frail. She tugged his chin to pull him into a kiss, and wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him deeper into her.

He pulled his hips back and slowly pushed back into her warmth, and she made a little gasp of approval. She wrapped her legs tighter around him and began to suck along his neck. The floral scent gave his skin a sweet taste, the slightest hint of dirt and sweat having been brushed away previously. She gently bit the area she had been sucking and he groaned as he pushed deeper into her again.

"I can take it." She repeated into his neck. He nodded his head as she went to kiss at his neck and he thrust into her harder. He waited for screams, for the sickening sound of bones shattering, for her fear to take her over and her to try and claw at whatever was most available to her hands like all the others before. She just sighed approvingly and paused her kissing to suck along his collar bone. "See?" she smiled into his skin. He nodded again and picked up the pace.

With each of his thrusts her legs wrapped tighter and tighter around his waist, pulling him closer to him with each moan he won from her throat. Like honey to his ears her moans covered the ominous creaking sound that filled the room. At a grunt from Finnian, Michaela bit down harder than ever on the sensitive skin of the neck sending him over the edge. As he thrust into her a final time and let out a particularly satisfying groan, the bed in an ear splitting creak crashed to the floor.

Pulled from their reverie Michaela blinked up at the ceiling, the duvet wrapped around her and Finnian on the floor—the bed having split in two beneath them from the stress. The feather mattress warped around them. Finnian's eyes were wide with fear as she stared down at her, when the mattress burst from the awkward position and feathers filled the air. She burst into laughter as his head became adorned with a crown of feathers, and the fear melted from his face.

Michaela brushed feathers out of Finnian's hair as he pulled his pants back on and opened the curtains and large window wide to empty courtyard. As he pulled the pieces of the bed out through the window, Michaela tried to fix her hair in the wardrobe mirror, pulling out her pony tail but with feathers still fluttering about she helped him maneuver a particularly awkward shaped piece (the headboard half) out the window. With the remains of the bed stacked above his head he ran off through the back of the manor to get another cot to replace the bed.

Turning to remove the feathers from her hair, there was a short knock on the door as Bard opened the door and poked his head in. He blushed and stared out the window as he saw her standing before the floor length mirror in her stockings and heels. Michaela grinned and pulled her now featherless hair back into a pony as he murmured about coming to get her for her tour of the mansion. This place was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Michaela had just finished buttoning up her new dress as Finnian came back through the window with a second cot for her roommate. At the young gardener's entrance through the window Bard froze in the middle of his thought that she hadn't been listening to anyways. He was dumbstruck as he and Finnian stared at each other silently, the fair blonde's ears turned a bright pink and he dropped the cot with a clatter.

"There! What do you think?" Michaela smoothed out the apron and spun around, asking no one in particular to cut through the suddenly thick mood.

"It looks really good on you, Michaela." Finnian answered, scratching at the back of his head with an awkward laugh. His laugh carried on into the silence, his eyes lingered on Michaela and the pink spread to his cheeks.

"Wait-" Bard began to put two and two together and pointed awkwardly between her and Finnian.

"Well then, shall we start our tour?" Michaela carried on, ignoring Bard's questions. She pushed the new cot into the same place the bed had been not too long ago and Finnian scrambled to help her. Bard looked as though he was doing complex mathematics in his head, staring up at the ceiling. Michaela's fingers brushed Finnian's hand as she smoothed the sheet, and she smiled as his blush deepened. He began to stammer something as she straightened up.

"It was good to meet you," she said and walked past Bard to stand in the doorframe, "will you be joining us on this tour?" Finnian shook his head, though the smile would not dislodge.

"I should clean up all these feathers before Mey-Rin's done the tea." He chuckled and Michaela grinned.

"And another thing, these feathers!" Bard tried to start his line of questions once more.

"Thanks…"She gave Finnian a small smile and a wink. She didn't want him to feel like he had been taken advantage of; and promptly turned heel and walked out of the room. Finnian sighed and threw himself back onto the freshly placed cot, Bard's questions unheard.

"Oi Finny!" He shouted trying to bring Finnian out of his daze.

"Hey Scruffs, where's the kitchen?" Michaela called, heading down the hall to her right anyways. Along the wall were small columns with a pale white bust at top each of them, a fancy portrait of people she didn't know at an interval of each three columns. Bard's heavy footsteps came tramping down the plush carpet behind her as she reached a cross way in the halls.

"You were- And Finny was- and the feathers? The bed!" Michaela turned and looked up at him. "Er, wh-what is it?" Bard faltered at the bored look on her face, he had expected embarrassment, shame or even annoyance.

"Kitchen, Scruffs, focus." Michaela pointed vaguely toward each offshoot of the hall. Bard stood dumbly staring down at the girl. She hadn't said anything to him at all during the ride from London. Upon walking in on her mostly naked she had simply told him to close the door and continued to slowly get dressed. The way the sun from the open window had danced across her supple looking skin… wait, wasn't modesty valued by these English women? Well, when she spoke to Finny she didn't quite sound like Lady Elisabeth or Mey-Rin, so…maybe she wasn't English? Just where had Sebastian found her anyways?

Michaela rolled her eyes and stalked off down the left corridor, stopping as she saw the tall butler pushing a tea cart past the far end. He paused as red met grey, and gave her the same vacant smile he had the day he hired her, and continued out of sight. She stared after him blankly, resisting the urge to shudder then turned to wait for Bard to catch up to her.

* * *

Michaela stared into the cup of Earl Grey numbly. The scratchy wool blanket that the red eyed man had wrapped around her now hung at an awkward angle on her bare shoulders. Though both of them were caked with blood, he stood counting small tea cakes onto a saucer for her.

"Your tea will get cold." He said plainly as he repacked the supplies he had pulled off of the tea cart, which he pushed back into the hidden alcove in the wall when she did not look up from her tea.

She pulled at the edge of one of the once white stockings, now torn and splattered with blood. Her lilac corset had come loose and had skewed, her entire right breast exposed. The fringe at the bottom of the corset that had served as her excuse of a "skirt" had been ripped, and now hung down low on her lap, her middle exposed. Down her entire left side was a deep burgundy stain from lying in the pool of blood. The butler seemed remotely aware of her exposure, but rather than concerning himself with her he seemed more focused on the door to their left. Almost as if whatever was down the hall held a stronger grip to his attention than the blood drenched girl he was serving tea to.

"Drink."

Michaela broke through the numbness and scowled at the authority in the voice of this servant, her posture stiffened.

"Oh my, such haughtiness from a common whore." His voice was dry as he unbuttoned his jacket. Michaela bit her tongue and glanced over at him; the slash across his back looked much more damaging now that you could see the blood on the white fabric of the shirt beneath. But as he turned to regard her again, she could make out the slight outline of the side of her body across his chest and her scowl etched itself deeper onto her features. She had broken the sword trying to slice him in half and he had still carried her away from it all.

"I suppose this will have to be washed too," He turned away again and pulled at the white dress shirt to examine the stains. The slice in the back previously caked down with blood shifted and Michaela let go of a small smile at the nearly imperceptible shift in the tall man's posture, "and mended."

Her toes curled in the feet of her ruined stockings, the drying blood made the fabric stiffen into sticky uncomfortable shoes. She wished desperately to remove them, to escape from this man and go back. The three coin sized tea cakes spoke against him doing anything _particularly_ violent in that instant she supposed, as he removed his shirt. His skin was like alabaster beneath the wine coloured grime, it looked powdery soft as though he were made from chalk—though thinking of the sword hilt she had tossed aside, some tougher mineral would probably be more accurate. He unzipped his pants and turned towards her; she pulled her knees to her chest and bumped the saucer. The china rattled as tea spilt in the semi-circle the cup had tilted, and the butler froze. His eyes fixed on the door to their left. "Drink." He said again, and closed the door behind him.

Alone, Michaela listened for a moment before standing and inspecting the room. He had gone through the only door in the room, and she had regained consciousness already in the goddamned chair. She ran to the window and pulled back the curtains. It was dark outside now, but they couldn't be any higher than the third floor. She wrenched the window pane up high above her head and lifted her foot up to the ledge. As she began to push off, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a pale hand wrapped around her wrist. She hadn't heard the door open, but as her skin burned under his touch she could not deny the butler's return.

"Leaving so soon?" He pulled her away from the window and she kicked her legs like a child being pulled from a toy store. He let out an exaggerated sigh that blew like ice over her neck and she sagged in his grip. Limp against his chest their bare skin came together, and Michaela felt as though a small fire had been set across her shoulders—what was his skin made of?

"Let go of me." Michaela scowled as her voice betrayed her, the order sounded more like a whimper. He set her down in the chair but held his grip on her wrist.

"Drink." He moved her hand to pick up the tea cup but her fingers balled into fists. He squeezed her wrist and the searing heat pricked down to her bones. Her fist tightened as she fought the urge to wrestle her wrist free and he placed his other hand on the side of her neck. Her fingers snapped around the tea cup's handle and the butler chuckled. He pulled on her wrist so the tea cup rose to her lips and she pursed them together childishly.

"Like a good girl now." He leaned in to her neck and whispered. The ice of his breath met the scorch his skin left on hers and sent a current straight up Michaela's spine. A tiny moan shook the base of her throat, her mouth pressed shut. He dragged his tongue from her collar bone to the hollow behind her ear. She opened her mouth to scream from the scalding trail he left, his tongue like liquid cinders contrary to his cool breath, and he twisted her wrist to pour the tea in. He rubbed his fingers along her throat and she spluttered as he forced her to swallow.

Michaela inhaled deeply as he let go of her, the wrist he had held shook despite her— the tea cup along with it. She glared into the empty cup.

"I had hoped bringing you here would have been enough." He sighed mopping up the spilt tea on and around the saucer. "I can't have you returning to him just yet, it might get in the way of my orders from the young master." The fog started to close in on her head as he spoke, nearly as thick as the anger that clouded up with it. Of course that's why he wanted her to drink it so badly. He opened the alcove once again and placed the saucer on the cart. "You should have tried one of the tea cakes though; they were imported from France." He pressed the fake door closed and turned back to her. Her body shook all over as she fought the closing in haze. She'd never make it back in time now. A smug smile pulled across the butler's face and the mist began to encroach on her vision, he was down a fuzzy grey hall rather than in the same room as her. The last thing she saw was the smile fall off of his face as she hurled the tea cup and it smashed on the door to their left.


End file.
